The Way You Looked at Me

Dear John,

 

Tonight there's not much to say and not much energy to say it with, anyway. I worked 7 hours today, mostly doing data entry, during which I was eating ice cream to stay awake. I have an early morning tomorrow - subbing for Kathy at BNi, so up at 5:30 - so I'll be off to bed very soon.

 

I've been thinking about the way you always looked at me. I love it - you could look at me and I felt hugged. You loved me and weren't afraid to show it. I loved to see you coming, to see the love on your face getting closer and closer.

 

And I miss that look now when I go to Panera. It isn't so odd to come in the door and not see you - there were lots of times that you were in the back when I got there. But looking back and not seeing you when I leave is rough. I manage by just leaving - I don't let myself look back. I put away my tray and dishes, and go straight out the door. When I let myself look back, and you're not there, it makes me cry. So I march straight out the door and into the car - then I cry. Some teariness is involved either way, but I do prefer to get teary in private and not expose innocent bystanders.

 

Thank you for looking at me that way - thank you for loving me, and not being afraid to show it. Thank you for being you. Love you with all my heart,

Joan.